The Lesser Good
by mystfatale
Summary: Not everyone in the Wizarding world fought for the cause, the bigger picture, the greater good... Rated M for some very mature content spread out over various places.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All characters you recognise in this story belong to J.K. Rowling. The first bit of text is, as stated, taken from William Shakespeare's _Hamlet. _

**Chapter warnings: **Allusions of violence and sexual abuse, swearing.

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**The Lesser Good  
**

**A Not-So Welcomed Saturday Night**

_Not a whit, we defy augury. There is special providence in  
the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to  
come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come—the  
readiness is all. Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows what is't  
to leave betimes, let be._

_Hamlet Act 5, scene 2._

1979.

Two lone and cloaked figures stood side-by-side beside a murky swamp; the forest surrounding them so dense that it obliterated what little light the crescent moon above provided. They had been standing, sitting… waiting… for over an hour.

"Bloody fantastic Saturday night this turned out to be, innit?"

The second cloaked man turned to his partner.

"What would you rather be doing than your duties, I wonder?"

"Duty!" the first cloaked man laughed loudly, "sitting around and waiting for the others while they have all the fun isn't what I'd like to call duty. I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing… drinking, fu-"

"_Duty_ is exactly what it is. We are required to keep a watch-out for their return, and no more shall be said on the matter."

A few minutes went by… the silence only intermittently broken by the frosty January wind that could almost be felt to their bones.

"Only glad it's not raining too!"

"Will you _shut-up, _Selwyn?"

As if his prayers to not be alone with Selwyn for another minute had been graciously answered, a group of dark figures dressed identically had suddenly appeared in the clearing – their porcelain white masks the only thing distinguishing them from the blackness of their surroundings.

The figure with flowing blonde hair that spilled out from beneath his hood reached the pair first.

"Fruitful night, Lucius?"

"Fruitful enough, Black. Any… disturbances?"

"Not a whisper. If you don't count Selwyn here."

Lucius Malfoy gave the younger man a haughty smirk through his mask. "I am sure the Dark Lord will relieve you of your watchout post next time. We can't be going around having all the fun now, can we?"

The other Death Eaters had now all assembled at Selwyn and Black's stationary post. Some were laughing, others yawning as if coming back from a long day of meaningless work, one simply staring apathetically into space.

Regulus Black watched them for a while, wondering what terrible deeds they had witnessed and had a part in tonight. They would never know how much it had begun to revile him, and how solitary he felt for feeling that way… they all took such pleasure in their deeds, whether it was a petty curse or something worthy of a Dementor's Kiss – it made no difference to the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.

All of a sudden, a piece of cloth had hit him in the face. Regulus scrambled with it before realising it was a torn Muggle shirt with its buttons ripped away. It smelled of bitter, cheap perfume.

"Keepsake. I didn't want you to feel all left out now," came the jovial voice of his striking cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"How very kind of you, Bella."

She smiled affectionately and placed a kiss upon his forehead, it wasn't affection more than it was almost an act of blessing someone with her presence. "Well, all the other men had their fun with the little Muggle bitch, why should my lovely little cousin be deprived of it, hm?"

Regulus fought with all his might to keep his stomach contents inside of him, but kept his facial expressions meticulously unperturbed… he wondered just how much of what they did had been on the Dark Lord's orders. They were not fighting a cause anymore – they were using that cause as an excuse to behave like animals.

A few of the Death Eaters had already apparated away; the "mission" as they called it was presumably over for the night. Bellatrix, her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, his brother Rabastan, Lucius and himself began to walk away from the remaining pack.

"You're all more than welcome to come to Lestrange Manor to continue the night," Bella informed her inner circle. "Bring Cissy along, Lucius."

"I doubt Narcissa would still be awake at this hour," Lucius replied. "But I really should get back to her nevertheless."

"We shall see you both for dinner tomorrow still?" Rodolphus enquired as the group came to a halt in a quieter place to apparate.

"But of course," said Lucius with a courteous bow. Regulus still could not contain his amazement at how gentile the man could be; it was not that he didn't agree with the punishment of Muggles, the more Muggles destroyed the better (if only they could start purging them in greater numbers than just committing horrible deeds on one or two per night), but how anyone could make such a smooth switch from murderer to gentleman like that… it was truly a sight to behold. With a nod to the group, Lucius had apparated away to his wife, another one of Regulus's cousins. One who had been clever enough not to get herself into this fold, into this mess.

"And you, Regulus?" Bella turned her attention to him once more. "I'm sure Aunt Walburga would let you stay away from Grimmauld Place for one night. She knows how good care her niece takes of her favourite son." She lightly stroked his cheek, which made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

"I…" he was about to give into the invitation purely on the premise of not having to be alone with his aching thoughts, but then he turned around and saw something that changed his mind. "… should probably get back to mother. You know she'll be awake all night waiting for news on what we've done."

"Oh, you're such a little mummies boy!" Bella laughed – though it was intended to be affectionate, Regulus still felt a pang of annoyance. "Alright. But we must insist on you coming to dinner tomorrow. Plans must be made, and the Dark Lord must continue to be pleased with my… _our_… efforts." She spoke his name as if on the brink of physical ecstasy. Regulus could see the silhouette of Rodolphus stiffen; it could not have been easy for him to witness his wife leave day after day to be at her true loves side.

As the three Lestrange's apparated away from the forest, Regulus fiercely tossed the disgusting Muggle shirt as far away from him as possible with a violent shout of anger. He thumped to the ground with his head in his hands, not stirring even as he felt the footsteps of another approaching him.

"You are embarrassing yourself - get up."

"You and I are the only people here, Severus. Unless you're counting the rats." Regulus shot back through the palms of his hands.

"I shall correct myself, then. You are embarrassing _me_; acting like a child in the middle of a tantrum..."

Regulus gave a sad laugh and looked up at the older man. "Merlin forgive me for not revelling in another petty rape and murder, whatever am I like?" The two men remained silent for a while; Regulus continued to shiver uncontrollably on the ground, while Severus Snape walked over towards the blouse that had caught on a branch and detangled it.

"Urgh, Sev. Don't tell me you're actually considering keeping that," Regulus said with utter disgust.

"Of course I'm not. I am not a pervert."

_Could've fooled me._

"What are you doing then?"

Severus heaved a frustrated sigh and held up the shirt to the dejected young man on the ground.

"Know what this is?"

"Some bitch's shirt."

"My stars, did you just come with that cutting riposte on the spot? Sharper than a scalpel..." Severus snapped. "_This _is evidence. Since you are not willing to conform to your charming cousin Bella's wishes and store it under your pillow then I must dispose of it, lest the Aurors find out about our happy little jaunt because _someone _saw fit to leave it lying about in the bushes."

"So you didn't just follow my family members and I through the woods to get an invite to dinner tomorrow," Regulus had had just about enough of Snape's condescending attitude towards him. "Just as well. It's about time you realised you'll always be out of the loop."

The way in which he scoffed and casually shoved the torn shirt into his robes dismayed Regulus, which, for someone on the brink of a mental breakdown from the realisation of what he had gotten himself into, was not welcomed one iota. Severus was so cold in all that he did. Everything was calculated and there was such a lack of emotion behind those black eyes that he could surely be dead behind them. Out of all the Death Eaters, it surprisingly had been _him, _his once friend and confidant at Hogwarts,who disturbed Regulus the most. Snape appeared to get no pleasure out of his acts as the other Death Eaters did, but nor did it seem to distress him as it did Regulus. He seemed to be floating in constant apathetical limbo.

"Why are you here, Snape?"

Severus looked up from his inspection of the surrounds.

"That is no concern of yours."

Regulus shook his head in disbelief. "You don't even enjoy being here."

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Black."

"What? Who's throwing what?"

Regulus did not understand where in the world Severus had pulled _that _from. Then again, Severus always did have an odd way of speaking… from the terms of references he used and the way in which a strange accent would spill out of his mouth every time he lost his cool, Regulus had been of the assumption that Snape wasn't exactly all he made himself up to be for many years now.

Recognising the other man's confusion and suspicion, Severus cleared his throat. "Never mind. I'd leave now if I were you."

"You know very well I'd _die_ if I left."

"Wha-? I mean the _forest_, you imbecile, not the…"

Regulus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up from the way in which Severus looked at him.

"You're a fool." He whispered dangerously.

"I didn't _say _I wanted to leave! _You _twisted my words like you always do!" Regulus shouted.

"I'm not the one cowering on the grass."

"I'M NOT COWERING, you prick!" all the emotion in Regulus had reached breaking point now. He jumped up and shoved Severus with full force; the elder black-haired man simply stood there stone-faced, as usual. "I thought such a clever bastard such as yourself would see that we are accomplishing _nothing _by assaulting the occasional Muggle and Mudblood or two! We've lost our way. The Dark Lord has lost his way."

This time, Severus took a step forward - his nose was about two inches from Regulus's.

"_Shut-up, _you idiot. It's a wonder how your hormonal, pubescent way of acting hasn't got you killed by now. Look at the bigger picture, be patient, and most of all – just be quiet; if not for anyone else's sake then for your own."

"How can you be so blasé about everything? You may act like you're such a man and so much wiser than me - but I know you're really just the same awkward, stringy, lonely boy I knew in school who _craved _recognition like oxygen!"

For the first time, he saw Severus muscles go rigid.

"Go back to your mother, Black."

And he apparated.

~*~

The lonely alleyway was still all but deserted when, with a sound not unlike the cracking of a whip, the nineteen year-old appeared within it. Nothing but the occasional mewl from a distant cat and screeching of car tyres off in the distance…

Behind a dented rubbish bin lay the Muggle woman's body. She looked peaceful and serene; her long blonde hair was still tied up in a ponytail. Were it not for her location one would have thought she had merely settled down to sleep.

Severus calmly drew out the pale blue coloured blouse from his robes; he clumsily placed the cloth over the woman's naked torso while avoiding her eyes… he had avoided her eyes as he stood by in the distance and let his comrades have their way with her; he couldn't bear looking into them now as he re-dressed her. Occlumency gave him the opportunity to perform these acts, and to witness acts, and not break down or retaliate, but he was not sure that was a good thing anymore. He knew what was to come.

As soon as he apparated into the abandoned Spinners End, the protective haven of Occlumency shields came crashing down with a sadistically powerful force. Unable to take the rapid torturous grief that flooded into his mind and his bones, the young Severus Snape stumbled heavily into the banister of the rickety stairs before falling hard to the floor, unable to stand a second longer.

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**Reviews appreciated :)**


	2. Far From The Tree

**The Lesser Good**

**Far From The Tree**

**1990.**

The large oak tree shuddered and shred what little leaves it still greedily held onto as Professor Severus Snape apparated directly into the side of it.

With a short yelp of pain he swiftly administered a retributive punch into the bark, which did quite the opposite of alleviating his displeasure... now he also had a bloodied gash along his knuckles to contend with. Not even bothering to cast a healing spell over his dripping hand, he stumbled back up into the castle's grounds with the sole intention of going to bed and obtaining an immediate, dreamless sleep with a Calming Draught. Or a sledgehammer to the head. Either or.

Hogwarts castle was all but deserted on this cold midnight, as was to be expected. Snape easily managed to reach his quarters without detection. He flung open the door to his chamber and swiftly picked up the already waiting Calming Draught on his sitting room table with one swift movement. He swigged the entire goblet and flung it angrily to the ground as he reached the second doorway to his bedroom - only just barely bothering to rip off his travelling cloak before collapsing, fully clothed, upon his bed.

He woke up the next morning feeling like his father. It was almost enough to push him over the edge.

* * *

"You know this is enough to push me over the edge."

"But it won't…"

Dumbledore's slapdash optimism (or was it nonchalance?) had always made Snape's skin crawl with prickly irritation.

"Do not presume to tell me what will and will not push me over the edge. _You _haven't been traversing all over the country looking for signs of upheaval," Snape snapped across from the Headmasters desk the following evening. "I could barely walk the distance from the apparation point to my chambers last night. The ache was unbearable."

"Perhaps you should visit the hospital wing? A young man in his prime such as yourself should not be having the arthritic pains of an old coot such as myself," Dumbledore said with an affectionate chuckle. Snape folded his arms and gave a look so dark that he could very well have just summoned over their heads his own portable storm cloud.

"That is _not _funny."

"If you can't laugh at these things, Severus, what can you do? What can you do?" Dumbledore repeated the second part of his sentence in the most serious tone Snape had heard since their meeting had begun. The two men sat in respectful silence for at least a minute… the elder sipping a cup of lemon tea and the younger glaring at the wall, wishing he'd finish the damn thing so that they could have a proper discussion.

"If this is my prime…" Snape mused out loud. He had to say these things to someone – he would have gone mad long ago if Dumbledore hadn't been there to be his verbal punching bag; he would not dare to lower his guard to anyone in the whole world bar the crazy old Headmaster.

"You should be proud of what you are doing for the Wizarding world; if it is your 'prime' that you sacrifice – it is for the greater good."

Snape was truly infuriated now.

"'Greater good'! What is this greater good you constantly speak of? There has been no major dark wizard activity ever since You Know Who… ever since I turned spy for you," Snape stumbled on those words – the memory still too painful after all these years. "My impact on the Wizarding world is nought. There is absolutely no point visiting key wizarding haunts every week and merely _waiting_ for something to happen – it is something I do not need, nor is it something you need. I shall have no further part in it unless you order me to perform something constructive and _useful_."

"It is constructive and useful, Severus, though you may not think so. Do you not think preventative measures are preferable over aggressive ones?"

"Of course. However-"

"However nothing," Dumbledore said with a knowing glint in his eye. "I am sure that you know what happens next year don't you?"

_How could I bloody forget?_

Dumbledore seemed to catch on to his thoughts as he nodded without further explanation. He had won, as he always did, and he knew that Snape knew it. It could not have been any other way… Snape's entire life had revolved around virtual slavery to others; he took endless orders from Dumbledore, did everything he had ever demanded of him, brewed whatever Potions were required for the hospital wing, in preceding years he had done everything the Dark Lord had demanded, he had remained at that God-forsaken Spinners End for decades too long to ensure that his mother didn't commit suicide while within the depths of her manic depression – a condition he could never afford to be afflicted with – and to make certain that Tobias's habitual explosions were targeted upon he himself, and not her… all of this, naturally, perpetually unappreciated by all parties.

Dumbledore had won. Like everyone else. That didn't make the aches all over Snape's body the least better at all, though.

"You are not like your father, Severus."

Snape leaned slowly back in his chair and absent-mindedly popped a lemon sherbet in his mouth – wishing immediately after that he hadn't… the sickly, fizzing sugariness of the damn thing nearly burned his oesophagus away.

"I am spending my life being a worthless, pathetic waste of space. I think that you will find that counters your estimation rather suitably."

Dumbledore shook his head in apparent amazement. "My boy, if that is the way that you force yourself to feel then it is so."

It wasn't exactly the reassurance that Snape was looking for, but then again he shouldn't, and nor did he want to, expect anything else from the Headmaster; arse-kissing sycophants were _not _held in high esteem by Severus Snape. He crunched down the rest of the offensive sweet in an agonising fashion and pushed the chair out from the desk.

"I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast, Headmaster."

"Very well, my boy. Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing while you're up. These pains don't sound at all fitting even for me, not to mention a thirty year old."

"I am quite capable of taking care of myself, I have done so all my life." _Besides, let us not make an even stronger similarity between Tobias and myself through developing various chemical dependencies. The nightly Draught of Peace is bad enough. _Snape thought bitterly. He left the Headmasters office without another word.


	3. A Matter Of Convenience

A/N: Wow, months of not updating at all and now I'm on a roll! Hope wherever my readers are that you're still enjoying this. Thank you to the four people who left reviews - I know I've replied to you personally (when I could - you pesky anonymous people ;) ) but it really inspires me to keep writing, thank you.

Enjoy.

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**A Matter Of Convenience.  
**

The staff room was jam-packed for the faculties weekly staff meeting the following Friday afternoon. From his standing place behind a seat containing the air-headed Queen Professor Trelawney, Snape counted far more heads then were normally present… Hagrid for one, Irma Pince for another, Filch, even Mrs. Norris had found her away onto a high table where she sat glaring at all the adults in that annoyingly haughty cat-like fashion. Snape glared right back at her.

"Thank you for all attending," Dumbledore began as everyone settled down in the staff room's various low-slung chairs, tattered couches or against the walls; he coughed loudly and a chattering Professor Vector got the hint. "As you all may or may not know, as of the next school year we have a rather… distinctive student joining Hogwarts ranks-"

Snape mentally groaned. He knew Dumbledore would draw severely unnecessary attention to that blasted Potter boy's arrival at the school.

"… Harry Potter," Dumbledore continued, a few of the teachers looked around at one another in apparent anticipation. "- Will be commencing his educational experience with us in the coming term. Now this is not the only focus of our meeting here, of course, but I wish to express my request that you try not to treat him differently from any other student at this school. Arrangements must also be made for one of our staff to collect him in September – as I am of the opinion that the Muggles he resides with are not going to be… overly enthusiastic of the big news."

_So much for treating him like any other student, _Snape thought. _Tirades of Muggleborn students have been faced with the same problem for hundreds of years and yet I do not see the Headmaster hosting a meeting for every single one of those! _

The meeting laboriously continued. The subject fortunately moving away from Potter and what special arrangements must be made to ensure that he didn't get any special arrangements made or some kind of ridiculous oxymoronic gibberish – and to the more formal matters dealing with the end of term and the commencement of exams, and the appointment of a new Muggle Studies Professor while Professor Quirrell would be moved to the Defence Against the Dark Arts department (_surprise, surprise; Merlin forbid the Headmaster give the post to someone who actually __**wants **__and would be good at the damn job for once, _Snape grimaced). It appeared, though, that most of the non-academic faculty had merely arrived to hear some juicy news about Harry Potter – as one by one they were excusing themselves quietly from the staff room, looking rather disappointed. When the meeting had finished only Hagrid had remained and was now following the Headmaster out of the staff room.

Without warning, another bolt of lightning shot its way through Snape's body from his feet to the very top of his cranium. _Fuck these aches! _He shouted internally, which only seemed to amplify the pain now dancing and doing gymnastic flips around his head. He inconspicuously darted around the remaining teachers and quickly sat down on a chair to compose himself. The chair annoyingly did not bring much relief to his muscles… but perhaps there was something else that just might…

"Prepared for exams, Severus?" Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, asked briskly from the seat next to him that he unfortunately did not see her sitting in before he chose to set himself down. Though he supposed she was the most favourable person in room… well…

"But of course I am. I was prepared at the beginning of September, Minerva." Snape replied shortly, massaging his temple. "More importantly, are you ready to hand the Quidditch Cup over to us for the sixth year in a row?"

McGonagall gave a thunderous scoff… it was a good thing that Snape's smirk was covered by the hands that currently rested upon his temples, otherwise he was sure that she would have throttled him. "You _know _the last Cup your house gained was won under many unnoticed fouls!"

"Oh! In that case, you may take the trophy from Slytherin's cabinet immediately."

He was swiftly rapped on the shoulder by a rolled up Daily Prophet. When Snape didn't continue to contribute to their customary daily teasing, McGonagall frowned. "Everything alright, Severus?"

"Quite wonderful." Snape said from his hands, determining the end of the conversation. McGonagall did not press and went back to her newspaper.

"Really, Minerva, how many points have you taken from Slytherin this time?"

Both Snape and McGonagall instantly snapped their heads upwards to see the chocolate-haired Astronomy Professor, Aurora Sinistra, standing across the room preparatory to exiting it - a smirk playing upon her face.

"You know Severus can't mentally handle more than a twenty point deduction at one time, I mean look at him, he's an emotional wreck!" she gave a lazy gesture in his general direction. Snape dropped his hands from his head immediately. As much as he loathed Aurora (and he did - Merlin he did), he could not deny that she was the very same woman he had intended to search for later.

"Haven't you got a Sinistra's Comet you can dash off to and discover?" he bit tetchily, not wanting to have any sort of conversation with the Astronomy teacher in front of the Head of Gryffindor - their conversations were generally shortened to one of two things: insulting the heck out of each other... and the other thing.

McGonagall tutted at his blatant discourtesy to a fellow staff member.

"How was your practical class last night, Professor?" she asked politely. Aurora shrugged.

"Generally well received. Though a few of the students had slight trouble locating elliptical galaxy M87 and establishing the various causes of its radiating high-energy particles… though I'm quite certain they'll be well versed in it now I've set a good six hard inches of homework on it."

Snape's hand gave an involuntary twitch. Thankfully it was a small and unnoticeable one.

"Would you come to lunch with me, Minerva?" Aurora continued cheerily. "I was thinking that instead of being locked in our respective offices we could construct our exam plans for the first to fourth years together."

"A splendid idea. I was to beginning to feel uncomfortably famished." McGonagall replied with gusto, pushing herself up from the chair. "Would you like to join us, Severus?"

_No, thank you Minerva, I'd rather staple my clothes to myself than sit and be forced to chat to Borealis. _"No, thank you Minerva, I must get back to the Potions lab… the Pepper-Up Potions for Madame Pomfrey will spoil if they're not stirred."

"Very well. And speaking of Pomfrey…" McGonagall said with a certain concern in her voice. "… Perhaps you should head over to the hospital wing yourself to see about that headache."

Her request was almost touching, but before Snape could object Aurora interjected:

"Minerva, that was exactly what I was about to say! Severus - meet me after lunch and we'll go and see about that headache. I'm in need of relief myself, actually."

The skin around the edge of his collar began to feel prickly and hot.

"Indeed? Well. That is convenient."

Both females nodded in satisfaction - but only one pair of eyes were met.

When McGonagall's back was turned (the staff room now entirely empty) the younger woman turned directly in front of the Potions Master and gave a great mocking theatrical jolt_._ Fuck. So it wasn't as small and unnoticeable as he once thought.

"That had NOTHING to do with your disgusting innuendos, you shrew!"_  
_

"Don't have an aneurysm, Snape." Aurora smirked. "And whatever do you mean by innuendo? I think the fact that my innocent chatter to Minerva can single handedly make you writhe about in a series of convulsions proves that you need a hobby more than anything else. One hour." she rushed out before he could get a single retort in.

Snape's face turned almost fire-engine red with anger - to the passerby he would have looked ridiculously comical; well, for the few seconds before he cursed them into oblivion, that was.


	4. Facultative Symbiosis

**Facultative Symbiosis. **

The lunch, featuring a delicious chicken stew, was one of the most tedious drawn-out lunches featuring a delicious chicken stew Aurora Sinistra had ever attended. The first hour had started out rather less tedious when Minerva was present, but then she had excused herself from their discussions on next years lesson plans and curriculum pathways (as much as Sinistra adored her very good friend, conversations with her ex-teacher were not exactly the most casual of natters… she had Professor Vector for that anyway) and returned to her class - to attempt to enrich minds that, in ninety-nine per cent of cases, were far more preoccupied with discovering just how much members of the opposite sex had developed in certain biological parts over the school year. At least, that was what Sinistra had deduced from her own classes… though maybe the overt lusting amoungst the pubescent teenagers may have had something to do with the intoxicating environment in which Astronomy was conducted. At least, it seemed intoxicating to them… to Aurora, the shimmering, iridescent starlight was nothing more than pure physics.

Just as Sinistra's face was about to fall, well… face first, into her bowl from the sheer tediousness of staring at the wall for the remaining forty-five minutes of her spitefully long lunch, Minerva's vacated seat gave a thunderous crack.

"Long night up on the tower was it?"

Sinistra looked up, and then up again, and then up again, to see the ever-welcoming face of another good friend of hers.

"Oh, Hagrid, don't even ask."

Secretly, she did want him to ask. It would give her at least another ten minutes.

The gamekeeper chuckled affectionately and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, which, in saucepan-sized hands, was no simple feat. The juice splashed into Sinistra's stew where it settled like a stratum of oil.

"Oh, er, sorry 'bout that Professor…"

"It's fine. You know pumpkin juice goes surprisingly well with chicken." Sinistra replied, lazily swishing her wand and clearing the spilled juice from the table. "How have you been, Hagrid?"

"Well, here an' there, here an' there. About ter head off to clear some weeds that are disruptin' Professor Sprout's greenhouses. Pesky things. Anyway, yer dun need to be listening ter me drone on 'bout that!" Hagrid chuckled. "I'm sure yer have much more important things yer'd rather be doing, or listenin' too."

"Well, I certainly have no one I'd rather be listening to." Sinistra replied truthfully, leaning back and casually crossing her legs the other way.

"Aw, thanks Professor!"

"Please," Sinistra flicked away his praises in her ill-deserved direction with her hand. Then, suddenly, she was struck with another brilliant idea.

"Hagrid…?"

* * *

The door to the Potions storeroom blasted open with the vehement force of a thousand warriors.

"You bastard."

Without even flinching, Severus Snape turned slowly around from his place in the far corner of the store to find a panting Sinistra framed in the doorway – it was only then when his eyes widened in surprise, and it was purely at her physical state.

"What the...?"

The dim candlelight of the storeroom did not paint the Astronomy professor in a very appealing light. Her hair was matted with dirt and all sorts of vegetation, her crimson robes were dishevelled and soiled at the hem. She attempted to blow away a small piece of fluxweed from her face, when it had rebelliously decided to detach itself from the curl of her brown hair, but there it still hung in front of her murderous eyes.

"What the devil happened to you?" Snape demanded.

"What the hell happened to _you_? I have been looking for you everywhere!" Sinistra countered.

Snape smirked nastily and walked slowly towards the door. "I think the fact that you look and smell like an upright pile of compost would make for a far more interesting answer."

Sinistra's hands and teeth clenched in frustration.

"Weeding."

"_Weeding_?"

"Yes, weeding! I was helping Hagrid. Because that is what decent people do – they help other people. Something you would know absolutely nothing about, being a selfish and completely self-absorbed upright pile of git." No need to confess that she had only done so to make Snape and sit and squirm for an extra half hour.

Snape's eyes flicked from the psychotic woman to the door. With a swish of his wand the door slammed shut on its hinges,

"Don't have an aneurysm, Borealis."

Sinistra suddenly gave an unexpected howl of laughter. Indeed, Snape had not expected it either – he gave a look of extreme bemusement.

"Oh, oh, okay…" she explained, clapping her palms together. "This is a revenge game you're playing, I see. I could've waited in the Great Hall and weeded until sunset and you wouldn't have turned up at my quarters just to spite yourself. Well-"

"And once again, you are mistaken as always." Snape said silkily. "I waited an hour. You never showed. I left. I have absolutely no time for your idiotic games… we have an _arrangement, _not a playful amity."

"We don't have _any _sort of amity, thank you."

"Exactly. Which was why I left and took an analgesic potion to relieve my headache instead."

Sinistra leant back against the wall and sniffed amusedly as she watched the Potions Master turn back to labelling his stock. "Was that as fun?" she teased.

"It achieved a tolerably corresponding outcome. Fun doesn't come into it."

"And what about my needs? You know very well the rules of our procedure – it _is _a two way street."

Snape momentarily ceased his re-stocking, as if actually stopping to consider her side of the story for once.

"Well… you..." he said in an almost whisper with his back still turned. "… you could just-" but then he cleared his throat and suddenly and decidedly changed course, "I could make you a tonic for any ailment that currently troubles you."

Sinistra allowed herself a transitory grin, which she dropped immediately when he turned in her direction and moved to another shelf.

"I think you're smart enough to know there isn't a potion available for what I want."

Sinistra took great pique to being refused her means. The arrangement that they had developed over the years out of the pure physical necessity of two busy professionals had been a sanity saving gift to Aurora; they had never wanted each other, not in that way at least – they had been friends once, but no longer. They merely used each other now in order to attain their means. It was a very precise, very anodyne collaboration that emanated 'true Slytherin' from every self-sufficient pore. The scientist in her termed it a facultative symbiosis. Extraordinarily quixotic stuff…

Snape smoothly nudged her out of the way as he reached for a something above her head, a few clinks and clunks of various glass bottles and he had pulled out a vial of what looked merely like syrup. Even though Aurora had a good inkling of what it was, she couldn't help but feel the need to aggravate her fellow Slytherin colleague.

"Maple syrup? Let's not get innovative, Severus."

Snape's upper lip rose in an unamused sneer. "When you are quite finished being the lewd wanton that you are, you should follow me… actually…"

Halfway through opening the door, he caught her eye and suddenly stopped.

"What?" Sinistra demanded, but Snape paid no attention and walked slowly toward her. He was about to go back on his word right in the middle of the storeroom to save himself the trouble of brewing a potion… the selfish git.

"I've been needing some of this for a while…"

Well, she was thoroughly confused now. Saying something like that was not like him at all. Actually, saying _anything _whilst acting out their arrangement was not like him at all – that was, in actuality, the best _part_ of the arrangement.

"I didn't get around to asking Professor Sprout for it."

… _what the fuck?_

And then he swiftly picked the fluxweed out of her hair and shoved it into his pocket.

"Follow me." He instructed again. "But don't you dare walk next to me – people will start thinking that we're friends."

Sinistra strangled the air behind his back.

* * *

The Potions classroom was almost pitch black when the two Professors stepped into it; the only light in the entire room was coming from the flames currently licking at the bottom of what appeared to be a large cauldron. It was so icy cold that Sinistra could almost feel the walls shivering.

With an indolent swish of his ebony wand, Snape lit the torches against the wall and stormed up to the bubbling cauldron, where he rook out the vial of syrup and turned to the large clock situated upon the wall in front of him.

"Thirty seconds. I never thought I was going to make it back in time to save this potion thanks to your blab-fest in my storeroom."

Sinistra scoffed and sat down on one of the student's desks so aggressively that the chair behind it toppled hopelessly over and hit the stone ground.

"_Is _there a reason for dragging me here? Or can I go and mark my fifth-year's assignments and try to forget that you ever accosted me against the wall with a bottle of maple syrup?"

"I think you ought to take care of your hygiene first; unless, of course, your hair wishes to open up shop as an Apothecarist – by all means, it would save me from making _countless_ trips to Diagon Alley."

"_My _hygiene? Pot. Kettle."

Snape paid no more attention to her. He stood with his back to the door and continued to watch the clock. Sinistra could appreciate the precise way in which he worked… though Potions was a subject nothing like Astronomy in theory, accurate and meticulous principles had to be utilised in order to be remotely successful in both. After only a few seconds, he popped open the vial and added it, drop by sticky drop, into the cauldron. Sinistra was almost mesmerised by the way he worked… as much as she hated the ground he walked on, there was no denying that he was something of a genius. It was a fact that never failed to annoy her.

"Hellebore…" Sinistra chimed in from the back of the classroom. "You're giving me a Draught of Peace?"

"For a person who just barely scraped an Acceptable in her NEWT Potions class, I am impressed." Snape replied as he began to stir the concoction. "Ten points to Slytherin. I was brewing it anyway, so don't presume that this is any sort of special favour in your direction."

"And what if I were a Gryffindor?" Sinistra teased, jumping up from her sitting position. "Actually - as civil a gesture as it is for you to put in the effort of scraping a couple of ounces of Potion from the cauldron for me - I think I'll pass on that Draught, thanks… and find a less chemically-dependent way to get by…"

It was the first time Snape had snapped his head in her direction since they had entered the room, and it was clearly the suspicious way in which she eyed the elixir that set him off like a firework.

"What are you insinuating?" he barked angrily. "That _I _am reliant on this? That I have no other means of escape? Just because I am Potions Master, it does _not _automatically mean that I abuse my abilities!"

"Severus, I never said-!"

"You didn't need to _say_!"

Merlin, she had never met anyone so defensive in her life… it was only through his severe reaction to her casual remark that Sinistra noticed just how sizeable the quantity of liquid swimming around in the cauldron really was; he had must have been brewing this hours before they had even arranged to meet.

"Why are you brewing so much of the stuff then?"

"Because…!" he halted in mid-sentence, his chest now rising up and down feverishly. "Because I _store _it, you stupid woman! I don't guzzle the entire thing at once like some kind of junkie!"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that! Merlin's beard! I was about to ask why you'd need to brew the damn thing at all, but I can clearly _why_ you're so addicted to it!"

Before Sinistra could interfere or impede his reaction, Snape placed his fingers around the rim of the hot cauldron and toppled it from its stand. The great big thing came crashing down upon the ground - where the clear, steaming liquid came rushing along the floor toward the horrified Astronomy teacher, who gave a short yelp and jumped back to the very back of the classroom. It was not enough distance… she could feel the hot fluid burning against the suede of her black boots.

"What, Aurora? Expecting me to get down on my hands and knees and lick it up so you can have a good giggle?"

But the look on Aurora's face was not one of amusement, not even anger. It was a look of sheer panic. Her hand gripped onto the door handle so hard that she felt the blood drain from her arm. The colleagues stood looking at each other for a few seconds, both panting as hard as the other - both, now, with looks of horror on their faces.

"Say something!" Snape demanded, as if, for once, he could not bear to have the upper hand.

Aurora shook her head defiantly; she was certainly not going to give him the satisfaction of feeling better about what he just did, she didn't care enough. Shaking droplets of chemical peace from her boot - she casually shut the door behind her with an undramatic click, and was quite out of earshot when the sound of shattering glass ricocheted from within the walls of the very same classroom.

* * *

_AN: Just a quick note: a lot of the backstory of this fic is featured amoungst my other work here (namely **The Pureblood Prince**, so if there's any confusion, a referral to that might answer some questions... even though it is still very much in the process of being written. ;)). As always, thank you all so much for your constructive reviews (and alerts and favourites - I haven't forgotten you guys either ;P). I appreciate them all very, very much._


	5. Quirinus

**The Lesser Good**

**Chapter V **

**Quirinus.**

The mountains were virtually indistinguishable in the heart of the night. They loomed above the ramshackled town of the outer parts of Maliq like two black portals into the nameless, as the stars flickered around their borders.

The dilapidated tavern on the mountainside made no intrusion upon the environment… the environment seemed to be claiming it for its own. Its edges were fuzzy with moss and weeds and its low ceilings were enveloped in damp and occasional stain or two which would have left many a patron wondering of its origin if they hadn't been the sort who didn't really tend to 'wonder'. You had the odd local in here who always appeared to be welded into the bar stool in which they were sitting; due to the tavern's distance from the major Albanian industrial centres, however, these were few and far between.

It was a Muggle inn. Which would explain the odd looks the man in the far corner of the bar was getting from the two regulars sitting at the idle fireplace. He had been getting ever since he set up here last week.

Quirinus had been very careful thus far in shadowing his true nature from the locals… he had packed and dressed in only Muggle clothes, and unlike many magic folk who normally possessed no concept on how to put a Muggle outfit together and pull it off without hearing distant sniggers from the very people they were trying to imitate, he did it very well. It was expected of him. He studied them. He taught his students of them… well… he used to.

Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. The poorer men around these hills dressed very differently than what Quirinus was used to, and no more had it shown than the time he walked into his place for a quiet drink and a sit down.

While consciously avoiding their gazes (and the far more agreeable one of the greatly younger barmaid… obviously a family business), the young Professor slipped an envelope out of his jacket pocket and ran his finger along the rough crease of it, pulling out it's content and folding the envelop reading: "_Prof. Q. P. Quirrell, __Kreu__I Gjarprit, Maliq, __Korçë County__, Albania" _back into the coat. Flipping open its contents he ran through a rather brief note regarding the minutes of a start-of-term staff meeting that he had fortunately missed, and attached to that was three pages describing a few changes to the Defence Against the Dark Arts syllabus (obviously remnants of what Quirinus missed in the traditional one-to-one meeting with the Headmaster at the beginning of every year). He sighed, took a final swig of the Muggle ale, nodded politely to the pretty blonde barmaid who he only just realised was still gaping at him, and exited the inn.

It was a quarter to midnight, and he very well should have retired to his bed… but there was research to be done.

The warm August air was uncomfortably humid, even at this high latitude. As the young man began to scale the smaller mountain he swung his jacket off and around his shoulders, trailing further and further into the dark abyss of the towering trees above him. He had trailed most of the world in his one year sabbatical from Hogwarts… it was the first time he had ever done such a thing. Muggles were easier to study locally, and only his advanced seven year Muggle studies students focused on differing Muggle cultures to the one's in Britain, so there was never any need to 'explore his art' as it were.

It soon became clear to him that the course of the mountain was taking a painfully steep turn, and he thought it best to stop and sit for a while, survey his surroundings and look for any movement.

During his travels Quirinus had come into contact with many different wizarding communities… and there was a general consensus (or perhaps more accurately, a rumour, but it was a very popular rumour and therefore a rumour that deserved a thorough investigation) that lately there had been a lot of Dark activity in these far placed forests of the Korçë County in Albania. Wizards of neighbouring countries has informed him of various suspicious creatures spotted here, in the very environment in which he now sat with his notebook, scribbling down his recent observations. The rumours spoke of Vampires, Werewolves, Yeti's, to the less believable ones of Nundu's, Ukrainian Ironbelly's and even Acromantula's – these of which, as Quirinus had spent months investigating, were absolutely no where to be found in Albania. From his research within the area – he suspected it was merely a colony of excrement-stirring Ghouls.

"_Lumos._"

He stood with his wand ignited for a few minutes, observing the territory; after a while he noted in his book that he had been nothing to report. He moved upward.

There were stops every hour and new notes explaining that there was nothing to note were added. The odd rustling of branches served as the only excitement of the night, followed by a fall in the pit of the Professor's stomach as a random selection of marsupial or amphibian or reptile hopped/jumped/slithered out of it's branches. The oddest occasion must have happened at around two in the morning, nearing the peak of the hill, when he observed a very slow and disinhibited petite snake glide past his foot, where it promptly curled up and died about a metre from where he stood. Quirinus stood with his wand trained on the thing for a moment, feeling a tad nervous that it was about to morph into something else and getting ready to leg it… but after a few minutes of stillness he was quite certain that the thing had passed on.

He made a small note. Just in case.

"_Nox."_

He sighed and shook his head in disappointment, though his gut was telling him that it was probably for the best that he hadn't come across anything too nasty. He would try again tomorrow and then he would head to Scotland once more… with nothing but a few interesting stories and two happy memories of two anonymous witches he had happened across on his travels – maybe two witches and a Muggle girl if this young barmaid and her immodest staring was anything to go by…

_Professor Q. P. Quirrell…_

_A voice? A voice! A voice that knew his name!_

"_Lumos!" _Quirinus shouted, whipping around in all directions at once, eyes fluttering around the trees like a man committed. "Who's there?" he demanded, a slight faltering in his voice. "Show - show yourself!"

He could not see anything in this light, but the almost-nothingness he _could_ see revealed naught to him.

Then… it could have been the mere whistle of the wind… but he heard a distant laugh - a very malicious one at that, one certainly not synonymous with amiable intentions.

_A change of tactic, methinks…_

"_Nox._" He whispered yet again. And then he ran. He ran as quietly as a man could run, but he ran. He was not a courageous man - he was a smart man.

But he didn't get very far.

There was a definite snapping noise as his head smacked against the forest floor, Quirinus fought against the several black spots that appeared in his line of vision as the pain seared through the back of his skull. He sat up as quickly as his pain tolerance would allow and made to leap into action once again, before he realised that the… _voice_ or whatever it was hadn't tripped him… he had slipped. Quirinus breathed a refreshing sigh of relief despite the mega-migraine that he was now budding, and he also decided that he ought to continue running anyway – the voice could be gaining distance on him second by second. Quirinus leant back and pushed himself up with one hand and held his pounding head with the other, feeling something rather odd and out of place in his grounded palm as he did so. He picked the papery substance off the ground… this must've been what he slipped on… rather an odd coincidence that someone else had been up here and left a pike of rubbish in the same place that he… mind you… it felt awfully familiar…

As Quirinus almost subconsciously began scaling down the mountainside at a hurried pace once more, he tried to catch the paper in the moonlight to see what it was (he daren't use Lumos, that was for sure) – though he was speeding through the woodland so fast that light passed over the object as quickly as Muggle transport vehicles on those busy motorways that they were constricted to. He decided he could afford to stop under a streak of light for just a few seconds to see exactly what the paper read… there was no audible sign of anything giving chase to him at any rate.

By Merlin, it was a piece of parchment. An envelope, in fact… and it had been ripped at the edges and was covered in a sticky, stringy substance that he absolutely had no intention of investigating. The Hogwarts crest was stamped onto the back of it.

Quirinus's stomach turned almost simultaneously as he turned over the envelope in his hands. And it dropped to his feet when he saw the inked address on its front.

_Prof. Q. P. Quirrell_

_Kreu__I Gjarprit, Maliq_

_Korçë County_

_Albania._

His personal prowler must've gotten his name from this. He must've dropped it on the way up here… far too foolish for comfort! Quirinus angrily shoved the thing back into his pocket and made a speedy walk down the rockier parts of ground that were appearing all around him; he certainly didn't wish to trip on _that _kind of terrain.

_Professsssssor…_

"_LUMOS!" _the light of his wand blazed angrily once again. "I- I DEMAND TO KNOW… TO KNOW WHO Y-YOU ARE AND WHY YOU ARE FOLLOWING ME!" he shouted in a failed attempt to sound intimidating.

There was a moment of eerie stillness, save for Quirinus's rapid panting and the crusty sound of leaves touching in the airstream that bustled above. "Who are you!" he cried desperately again. Oh, how he _wished _he had stayed in the Muggle studies department now! He didn't think it fitting for a future Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to be standing here and have panic rip all knowledge of what he should be doing away…

A rustling in a nearby shrub compelled the petrified teacher to train his glowing wand on it… when he did so, he made an odd sound that could only be described as a cross between a yelp and a yell. A snake was twisted around the branches that loomed over the shrub it was obviously previously hiding in… it must've only been a meter and a half or so long… but the way it twisted and coiled… and the way it was… it was actually _looking _at him… it struck fear into the very core of his being.

There was something in its eyes that gave it away.

"Am I… am I speaking Parseltongue?" he asked the serpent, despite all bodily functions screaming at him to escape.

He would have bet a hundred Galleons that the snake had just given him a shake of the head.

_You are not worthy of the ancient Tongue of Snake, Professor Q. P. Quirrell of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But you will be in the very immediate and imminent future. You will be._

It spoke as if it were living inside the chamber of his skull, it was almost as if the sound of its voice were bypassing his ears completely.

"… what?" he asked weakly, his legs about to give way. "But can I understand you…?"

_I am merely a possession. My feeble body, my true form, cannot sustain itself. _The snake's head danced in organised movement as if in mid-conversation. _I embody the essence of these serpents, deep in this forest… I have done so for many years now. I have been waiting most patiently. _

Quirinus gulped. Ice cold shivers dripped all the way down his spine. He began slowly drawing backward… though he had no idea how he could escape a voice that seemed to essentially dwell within his own brain. Maybe he needed his head checked at St. Mungo's upon his return to Britain…

_But why the hesitation, Professor Quirrell of Hogwarts? _The snake voice asked. _I am offering you the most precious task, the most precious __**contribution**__, in Wizarding history._

"You… you are?"

Perhaps if he kept the thing talking, he could make a break for it.

_But where will you run, I wonder? And how long will it take before you realise that now… you can never escape?_

Quirinus had to take a split second to distinguish the snakes voice to his own thoughts, and another split second to attempt to subdue the feeling of rising panic… it was **reading **his mind!

He apparated away to the area just outside the inn.

But… there was no familiar feeling that usually came with this mode of transport. To Quirinus's utter horror, after he opened his eyes he was still fixed in the same place. He tried again and again and again. Apparition never came. And the creature was watching him with what could only be described as a look of extreme… amusement? Could a snake do that? Well, of course it could! If it could _talk _and read _minds_, Quirinus didn't even know why on earth he was _questioning _its facial expressions…

There was no other choice – he ran. He ran downward and downward, faster and faster until it felt like he was flying… and then he was flying; he flew for approximately one and a half seconds before his whole body came crashing down upon the grass, where it then proceeded to roll head over heels, flesh tearing on the pointed branches and occasional jagged rock. He did finally come to a halt when he crashed side-first into a particularly colossal stump, but he did not remain stationary for long. He could hear a distant but strong rustle of leaves behind him and knew it was giving chase, and that it was also getting closer by the second. Quirinus stood himself up and his left leg instantaneously exploded into a million fiery pinpoints of pain. He gave an inexorable deafening shriek as the inferno advanced up to his hip and forced him down onto the ground once more; his flight mechanism still unable to be quenched, he now began crawling, dragging his palpably fractured ankle behind him. It was then that the thing finally struck.

This time he gave a scream that was so ear-splitting he was positive that it would have alerted someone in the inn to his location deep within the woods. He pulled out his wand and twisted his body so that he was facing upward and looking down on the beast that had attached its fangs onto his broken and pulsating ankle, blood was pouring out around its teeth and pooling in his shoes. He gave one feeble kick at the thing with his intact foot and when he established that it was obviously futile, he shouted out as many curses as his hastily deteriorating, pain-riddled brain could recall. Beams of light and sparks hit the snake that clamped down upon him. Just as the edges of Quirinus's vision began to go black, its grip began to loosen… and after a few more beams of green light had hit its body, it has completely detached itself and fallen onto the grass beside him – still as the seabed.

"Oh…" Quirinus moaned as a throbbing chronic pain took hold of his lower half as opposed to a fiery acute one. He needed to drag himself down this hill as quickly as possible, and into the inn, and away from this possessed demon snake that lay deceased at broken ankle. Sweat pouring down his face, and pure fear the only thing preventing him from blacking out, he attempted to Apparate once more – and gave a considerably noisy bawl of frustration when the same result transpired. That the thing had been _killed _and still the Dark magic that surrounded this forest remained! He started to drag himself, half crawling, and half sliding, along the grassland.

He got as far as a couple of feet before he heard what sounded like swirling sand behind his ears. It was then that he knew he was about to die…

_Foolish servant. You can never escape Lord Voldemort._

Quirinus turned around barely briefly enough to catch a foretaste of the whirling transparent smoke that was seeping out of what looked like the dead serpents mouth. The shimmering air hung above its body and turned slowly, as if it were surveying him. He did not have the time to scream, nor to close his eyes and brace himself, as it soared towards him, bled into the corners of his eyes and wrapped its unyielding clutch on his soul.

* * *

**Thank you for all your reviews. I hope there are people still reading this... apologies for the extreme stretch of time in between these chapters!**


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